


Need

by shions_heart



Series: Vibrato [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (because yes), (sort of??? Bokuto is in his second year, Akaashi in his first), Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Touch-Starved, inspired by Gin's art (again), violinist akaashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 08:34:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5157155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shions_heart/pseuds/shions_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akaashi longs for Bokuto's touch until it forces him to take the next step in their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need

**Author's Note:**

> WELP HERE'S ANOTHER PWP BECAUSE OF [GIN'S ART](https://twitter.com/GenevadeRivia/status/662589132523364352) (also that scene in _Atonement_ (you know which scene)).
> 
> My contribution to the twitter bokuporn war, ahaha.
> 
> Also! I'm dedicating this work to Takei, because their burning love for Bokuaka gives me life. ([AND LOOK AT THE AMAZING PORN THEY DREW O M G](https://twitter.com/TakeiShun/status/662718598964625408))
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

Akaashi’s body is burning. It has been ever since after practice, when he watched as Bokuto stripped off his sweaty gym clothes to step into the showers. He’d noticed Akaashi staring and struck a pose.

“Like what you see, Akaashi?” he asked, making a show of flexing his muscles.

Akaashi had turned quickly away, a slow flush crawling up his shoulders and neck, scorching his face and ears, leaving his skin tingling. He remembers mumbling something about being late for class, which was absurd, seeing as his first class didn’t start for another hour. But he escaped the gym, stepping out into the crisp fall air, grateful for the cool breeze against his flaming skin.

And now he’s home, attempting to focus on his violin practice, while his heart thrums quickly against his chest. His skin feels thin and shivery, and he can’t focus on the sheet music before him. He continues to see Bokuto’s body in his mind’s eye, the slopes of his muscles, the thin sheen of sweat glistening over his skin. His fingers twitch, aching, longing to roam over that skin, to feel goosebumps appear beneath his fingertips. He closes his eyes and lets his mind conjure the sensation of dragging his nails down the expanse of Bokuto’s strong back, feeling the roll of the muscles in his shoulders.

His eyes pop open quickly with a small gasp, as he realizes he’s already hardening in his pants. He stills, biting his lip, unsure of what to do. He’s in the small study/library of his expensive home, and he can hear his parents moving about the upstairs level above him. They would surely be ashamed of him if they knew he was allowing himself to be distracted from his responsibilities by such lewd thoughts.

But his body _wants_ . . . no, it _needs_ . . . and so Akaashi stands there, violin and bow falling to his sides, staring blankly at the music stand before him. He only looks up when the door to the study opens, and his mother steps into the room. Quickly, he shifts the violin so that it covers the half-hard erection he’s trying desperately to soften.

“It’s too quiet in here,” she says with a disapproving look. “Keiji, you should be practicing.”

“Yes, Okaasan,” Akaashi says apologetically, bowing slightly. “I got distracted, I’m sorry.”

She purses her lips. “You won’t do well at your recital if you don’t practice as much as you can.”

“I know, Okaasan.”

She nods then, adjusting the pearl cord around her neck. “Your father and I are leaving for the concert now. Don’t stay up too late and remember to complete your homework.”

Akaashi nods. “Yes, Okaasan.”

He watches as she pauses, and he holds his breath, a small inhale of hope, as he wonders if she will step forward to hug him before she leaves. But she doesn’t (of course she doesn’t), simply gives him a fond smile before turning to leave. She leaves the door open behind her, and he can see the front entrance of the house through the hallway. His father steps up behind his mother, placing her coat over her shoulders in a tender gesture, before they both exit.

Akaashi knows his parents love him, and he knows they love each other. But they’ve never been a touchy family. They’ve never expressed their love with hugs or kisses. Their relationship toward one another and with him is very respectful and polite, affectionate, but not overly so. It’s been that way his whole life.

He still remembers the first time Bokuto hugged him. The way his skin itched afterwards, the way his heart felt too big for his chest, threatening to burst. He remembers first meeting Bokuto’s family, the way they all greeted him with such warmth. Bokuto’s parents had patted his shoulders, his head, Bokuto’s siblings had tugged on his hands, and Bokuto had flung his arm around him with a grin so close to his face Akaashi could feel the warmth of his breath, until Akaashi’s senses were so overwhelmed he had to excuse himself, run to the bathroom, and cry silently into his hands.

He’s better at controlling himself now, but that doesn’t stop his body from aching, longing, _wanting_.

He sets down his violin, crossing over to his phone where it sits on his father’s desk. He picks it up and finds Bokuto’s name, sending a quick text before he can talk himself out of it.

 **To:** Bokuto-san  
**Subject:** (no subject)

_I need you._

The response is immediate.

 **From:** Bokuto-san  
**Subject:** re: (no subject)

_akaashi??? u ok???_

Akaashi purses his lips, not sure how much to say. They’ve only been dating a few months. And Bokuto is in his second year at the university. He probably is busy, too busy to simply drop all his responsibilities and come to Akaashi’s aid. It’s unfair of Akaashi to expect that of him. Especially since Bokuto lives on campus and would have to take a train to reach him at his home. It’s a commute Akaashi takes every day he has classes or practice, and he knows how long it is.

He’s about to reply and tell Bokuto to forget about his previous text, when a second message _pings_ his phone.

 **From:** Bokuto-san  
**Subject:** re: (no subject)

_im on my way_

Suddenly Akaashi feels his chest tightening. Panic seeps through him, and he leans against the desk, clutching his shirt above his heart. It pounds away rapidly, and he wonders what Bokuto will think of him. They’re still in the tentative stages of their relationship, and here he is telling him how much he needs him. Surely it’s disrespectful to demand such things so early on.

He slides to the floor, his back against the hard wood of the desk, resting the back of his head against it. He closes his eyes, concentrating on slowing his heartbeat. He’s still sitting there, still as a marble statue, when an insistent knock startles him. His body twitches, and his heart begins speeding up again. Grimacing, Akaashi pushes himself off the ground before moving out of the study to the front door. He opens it slowly, peering out from behind the door to stare at Bokuto. He’s flushed, panting from a run. His hair is in disarray, most of it flattened from the beanie he’s holding in one hand. It appears as though he’d just ripped it off and run his fingers through his hair in an attempt to stand it back up again.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto exclaims, eyes lighting up the way they always do whenever he sees the other young man.

Akaashi feels his cheeks warm, and he takes a step back, opening the door further. “Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto steps into the house, eyes fixed on Akaashi’s face. “What do you need, Akaashi?” he asks, tilting his head and blinking at him with those striking gold eyes.

Akaashi swallows past the lump in his throat. He doesn’t know how to come out and say it. To make his lips form the words that could quite possibly make things awkward between them for some time. He glances toward the study. “I was practicing my violin,” he says instead. “Would you like to hear?”

Bokuto’s eyebrows rise in surprise, but then he grins, a quick flash of sunlight that burns Akaashi’s ears. “I’d love to!”

Akaashi nods, beckoning for Bokuto to follow him back into the study. Bokuto remains close behind him, so close that Akaashi can feel the warmth of his body radiating toward him. His own body feels warm now, and that itching is back, that sensation of heat crawling beneath his skin. He tries to ignore it, stepping over instead to the desk to pick up the violin and bow. He moves in front of the music stand then, as Bokuto takes a seat on the top of the desk, legs swinging absently.

Akaashi doesn’t look at him. He can’t. Instead, he focuses his gaze on the music in front of him. Fitting the violin beneath his chin, he inhales deeply before releasing the air slowly and beginning to play.

It’s Antonio Vivaldi’s “Largo” from his piece “Winter” in his Four Seasons composition. It flows smoothly from his instrument, weeks of practice evident in his playing. He makes the mistake of glancing up at Bokuto during his performance, though, and when he catches sight of the wide-eyed look of complete awe and admiration in Bokuto’s face, he falters, screeching to a halt with a flinch.

Bokuto blinks, startled out of his daze by the discordant sound. “Why did you stop?” he asks.

Akaashi can feel his fingers starting to tremble again. He sets down the violin before he can drop it, knowing his parents would not be happy if he cracked the expensive wood.

“Bokuto-san,” he says quietly, his heart hammering in his ears, making his voice sound small and distant. “Will you please touch me?”

Bokuto’s eyes widen further, and his feet land abruptly on the ground as he jolts off the desk. “What?”

Akaashi meets his gaze, despite the ache building within him. He takes a step forward, and when Bokuto doesn’t move away, Akaashi is emboldened and steps closer, hands reaching. He grabs Bokuto’s, still cold from the outside wind. Pulling them toward his face, he rests the rough palms against his burning cheeks. Bokuto stares, his gaze flickering to his hands to Akaashi’s eyes and then back again. Slowly, his fingers curl into Akaashi’s face, pressing on their own.

Akaashi allows his hands to fall away, though they tingle, mourning the loss of the touch. But the grip on his face tightens, and Bokuto closes the gap between them, leaning forward to press his chapped lips against Akaashi’s with such gentleness, Akaashi doesn’t feel the coarseness of them. He sighs shakily through his nose, relief threading through him, making his limbs weak. He reaches forward once more, curling his fists into Bokuto’s jacket, tugging him nearer still, until their bodies are flush against one another.

Bokuto murmurs softly, his kiss deepening, pressing harder against Akaashi. Akaashi welcomes it though, feels the heat of it coursing through his veins, until his entire being feels hot. He parts his lips, seeking more contact, and Bokuto accommodates, slipping his tongue inside, warm and wet. Akaashi fights back the moan that’s pressing against the base of his throat, curling his fingers tighter into the material of Bokuto’s jacket. He meets Bokuto’s tongue with his own, shy at first, barely brushing against it. But then a moan sounds from Bokuto, deep and hungry, and Akaashi finds himself pushing more firmly.

He isn’t sure how long they stand like that, panting softly, hearts pounding, lips sliding and sucking, teeth nibbling. Akaashi feels that need growing within him again, that need to be closer still, to feel Bokuto’s skin on his skin. Without thinking too much about it, he moves his hands, pushing Bokuto’s jacket up over his shoulders and down his arms as best he can. Bokuto pauses, pulling away slowly. His cheeks are flushed, lips swollen, and Akaashi wonders if he doesn’t look much different himself.

“Akaashi,” he says, and Akaashi watches the apple of his throat bob quickly. “Are you sure?”

Akaashi is fairly confident he’s never been so sure of anything in his life. He nods, once, firmly. “Yes.”

Bokuto grins, stepping back to shed his jacket himself, quickly following it with his shirt. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately,” he admits, no hint of shame in his open expression. He stops then, tilting his head in thought. “Actually, probably ever since I first met you in high school.”

Akaashi’s cheeks are now burning for a different reason. “Bokuto-san,” he complains softly.

Bokuto laughs, hands moving to tug gently on the collar of Akaashi’s shirt. “Can I take this off?” he asks hopefully, eyes bright.

Akaashi nods, biting his lip, as Bokuto’s hands move down slowly, pressing against his sides in long strokes, before coming to the hem of the shirt. He pulls it up then, and Akaashi lifts his arms to help, as Bokuto tugs the shirt up and over his head. Bokuto sighs wistfully then, and Akaashi tries not to be embarrassed by the way his gaze is roaming over his torso.

“You’re so beautiful, Akaashi,” Bokuto says wistfully.

Akaashi gnaws on his lip, resisting the urge to cover back up immediately. He coughs softly instead, staring at Bokuto’s chest instead of his face. It doesn’t help, however, as he looks over the planes of Bokuto’s stomach and abdomen, his pectorals, his biceps. Every muscle is well defined beneath his skin, evidence of years of sports and workouts. Akaashi again wonders what it would feel like to touch those muscles, to feel them twitch beneath the drag of his nails.

Slowly, he reaches forward, lightly touching his hand to Bokuto’s abdomen. Sure enough, there’s a shiver that causes tiny bumps to appear along the skin. Akaashi smiles faintly.

“You are too,” he admits quietly, sneaking a quick glance toward Bokuto’s face.

Bokuto beams back at him. “I know, right?!” he exclaims happily. “We’re probably the best-looking couple in the entire university.”

Akaashi laughs, he can’t help it. Bokuto looks even more pleased by this development. He steps forward again, resting his hands on Akaashi’s hips, stroking his thumbs lightly over the exposed skin above his waistband. Akaashi’s laughter dies in his throat at the touch, a shiver of his own tingling up his spine. He swallows hard, staring up into Bokuto’s face, as the other steps forward once more, forcing Akaashi back, until his back hits the bookcase behind him.

The rough pattern of book spines dig into his skin, but he barely registers them, because Bokuto is descending on him once more, mouth eager this time, not afraid to bite and suck, which it does mercilessly, until Akaashi is gripping his arms tightly enough to leave bruises. He can feel himself straining against his pants, and the inside of his underwear is damp and slick already. It’s embarrassing, but in this moment he doesn’t really mind. It helps that he can feel Bokuto pressing against his hip as well. Carefully, Akaashi shifts so that his leg is between Bokuto’s. Very gently, he pushes up against the bulge in Bokuto’s jeans with his thigh. Bokuto breaks the kiss with a strangled noise, panting, as he looks down at Akaashi in shock.

“You—”

Akaashi meets his gaze steady. “I need you,” he says plainly, deciding to simply forgo the embarrassment. It’s not conducive to his desires in this moment, so it’s better to simply forget about it.

“Right _here_?” Bokuto chokes.

Akaashi looks around. It’s not an ideal place for a first time, but he isn’t sure he wants to take the time to climb the stairs to his room. There is the question of a condom and lubrication, however, and he tries to think of a solution for this. It’s difficult when his skin is crawling, and his abdomen is pooling heat around his throbbing member, but then he remembers something.

“My mother keeps lotion in the side table by the couch in the living room,” he prompts. When Bokuto stares at him blankly, he sighs. “Please go get it.”

Realization dawns on Bokuto, and he releases Akaashi, walking awkwardly out of the study to fetch the lotion. While he does, Akaashi sags back against the bookcase, grateful for its support. Biting his lip, he reaches toward his pants, unfastening them to relieve some of the pressure. Slipping his hand inside, he allows his fingers to run over the dampness of his briefs, quivering at the slight friction.

“Um.”

Akaashi looks up, meeting Bokuto’s gaze across the room. Bokuto is standing in the doorway, one hand clutching a bottle of lotion, staring. His wide eyes move from Akaashi’s face to where his hand is still tucked inside his open pants. Akaashi doesn’t look away, as he moves his hand again, this time sliding into his underwear to take hold of his dripping length. He begins to rub himself slowly, inhaling sharply, and Bokuto makes another distressed noise.

“No, no, Akaashi, wait!” Bokuto says quickly, hurrying forward. He reaches to grab Akaashi’s wrist, pulling it away. “I want to do it.”

Akaashi allows his hand to fall away without protest. Leaning his head back against the books behind him, he trembles, as Bokuto’s hand, now warm, wraps around him and begins to tug. Heat spreads through him, billowing like a cloud, covering him in a haze of pleasure. His lips part, and he struggles to keep his breaths even, as his heart pounds so hard against his chest his ribs ache.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto murmurs in wonder. “You’re so wet.”

Akaashi fights back a whimper, as Bokuto runs his thumb through the pre-cum dripping from his slit. Bokuto grins, a pleased expression crossing his face.

“You’re really hot for me, huh?” he asks happily.

Akaashi resists the urge to bury his face in his hands, leaning forward to press his forehead against Bokuto’s strong shoulder instead. He isn’t sure if the warmth he feels there is from Bokuto or his own flushed state. He brings his arms up around Bokuto, under his arms, to rest his hands against his broad shoulders. He digs his nails in then, scratching down as Bokuto begins to quicken his pace. Bokuto inhales sharply.

“A-Akaashi?”

Akaashi doesn’t reply, simply continues to drag his nails down Bokuto’s back. Down to the waistband of Bokuto’s jeans. He slips his hands inside then, gripping the firmness of Bokuto’s ass, and Bokuto starts.

“A-Akaashi!”

Slowly, Akaashi pulls his hands away, fighting a smile. He moves them around to the front then, unfastening Bokuto’s pants. The hand on his length stills, but Akaashi welcomes the moment of slight clarity, and as he runs his fingers over Bokuto’s heated member, he tilts his head back to look up into his flushed face.

“You didn’t happen to bring a condom with you, did you?” he asks softly.

“Um!” Bokuto squeaks, his face growing redder. “I-I usually keep one in my wallet . . . just in case . . .” The rest of his words is lost in a mumble, but Akaashi pulls away, satisfied with his answer.

Doing his best to keep his own flush under control, Akaashi nods. He pulls Bokuto’s hand out of his pants, shedding them completely then, along with his underwear. He kicks them to the side, very aware of Bokuto’s eyes staring at him. He takes the lotion from Bokuto’s hand, before taking Bokuto’s hand as well and turning it so the palm is facing up. He squirts some of the lotion onto Bokuto’s fingers generously, chancing a look toward Bokuto’s face then.

It’s still bright red, and his golden eyes are wide. Akaashi’s never had sex before, but he knows how the procedure is supposed to go. He spreads his legs, moving Bokuto’s hand down between them. Sudden realization sparks Bokuto’s eyes, and he grins a little shakily.

“We’re really doing this, huh?” Bokuto asks, his voice trembling with excitement.

Akaashi nods, biting his lip. He braces his back against the bookcase, closing his eyes as he feels Bokuto’s fingers begin to massage his entrance. Everything smells like the lilac of his mother’s lotion, and that heat is spreading through him again, swirling around his head. He inhales sharply, as Bokuto’s finger nudges his entrance. He wonders if it’ll hurt, and tenses, but Bokuto seems to take that into account, because he gently inserts his finger with caution, moving slowly to the first knuckle and then the second.

It feels strange, the pressure, and Akaashi finds himself breathing hard, grabbing onto Bokuto’s thick biceps once more.

“It’s okay, Akaashi,” Bokuto murmurs, bending forward to kiss at Akaashi’s cheek and then his neck. His lips are wet and soft now, and they trail tiny kisses down the slope of Akaashi’s neck, until he finds a spot to suck. Akaashi grips him tighter, wincing, as Bokuto removes his finger and then presses it back inside, thrusting in a slow rhythm.

His body feels hot, too hot, and he can feel the wood of the bookcase behind him sticking to the sweat of his back. His heart is beating wildly in his ears, but he doesn’t ask Bokuto to stop. He doesn’t want him to stop. He smells like the cool autumn breeze and, somehow, rich chocolate. When Akaashi turns his head and buries his nose in Bokuto’s hair, he smells the freshness of his shampoo. It’s a comforting smell, one he’s used to, and he relaxes at the familiarity.

Bokuto takes that moment to push in a second finger. Immediately Akaashi tenses again, pain burning as he’s stretched further. He bites his lip to keep from whimpering, however, and Bokuto continues his gentle movements, not speeding up or pushing too hard. He does, however, scissor his fingers gently, and the sensation pulls a low moan from Akaashi’s throat. He can feel Bokuto smiling against his skin, and he moves his hands to Bokuto’s back, digging his nails in once more. He feels more grounded when latched onto Bokuto, like the heat inside him isn’t going to cause him to explode just yet.

And then Bokuto inserts a third finger, and Akaashi stifles a soft cry. It’s too much, too much, but at the same time it’s not enough. He feels the pressure, the ache growing stronger, but it’s not fully Bokuto, not yet. He wants to be surrounded by him completely, to know what it’s like to feel his touch in the closest way possible.

He begins to move his hips, pressing down against the thrust of Bokuto’s fingers. Bokuto takes that as encouragement, and starts to move his fingers faster, the hot puff of his breath increasing in speed against Akaashi’s neck. He pushes in deeper, and then curls his fingers against a spot that sends Akaashi’s back arching, as pleasure rocks his body and causes his hips to jerk forward.

“B-Bokuto-san!” he gasps, unable to keep quiet when that sensation was so incredible.

Bokuto grins. “Gotcha,” he says happily, and curls his finger against Akaashi’s prostate once more.

“Bokuto-san!” Akaashi yelps again, nails scrambling to keep their hold as his body bucks again in response to the sharp heat sparking through him. He feels like he’s on fire, flames flickering across his hips and thighs and abdomen, climbing higher, rushing through his veins. He trembles, as Bokuto slowly draws his fingers out, and the lack of pressure within him feels like a loss. He audibly whimpers this time, unable to keep himself from making that sound.

“Bokuto-san, please,” he says, gasping for breath, as Bokuto steps away and reaches into his pocket. He watches, legs shuddering, as he draws out his wallet, pulling a condom from one of the slots. He tucks his wallet back into his jeans then, pushing them down a little more in order to pull himself free from his underwear.

Akaashi finds himself staring at the swollen, hard member, leaking pre-cum almost as profusely as Akaashi’s is. Had he truly caused Bokuto that much pleasure? With only his reactions? He bites his lip, turning his gaze onto Bokuto’s face, meeting his glassy stare, and studying the pink that dusts his lightly freckled cheeks.

“Bokuto-san,” he says then, as firmly as he can. “Please fuck me.”

Bokuto barks a laugh. “I’m gonna, don’t worry!” he says with confidence, though his fingers are shaking as they attempt to open the condom’s packaging. Finally, he just places it between his teeth, ripping it open with a single jerk. Akaashi’s knees feel weak, and his mouth is dry, as he watches Bokuto carefully roll the condom over his member. He picks up the lotion that had slipped from Akaashi’s hand to the floor earlier, spreading a good amount over himself with a sharp inhale.

He steps forward then and takes Akaashi’s hips in his hands. With an ease that shouldn’t be surprising but is, he lifts Akaashi and presses him up against the bookcase. Akaashi’s heart is pounding again, aching in his chest, and he curls his legs around Bokuto’s waist to help support himself. He feels the hard head of Bokuto’s length pressing against his ass, and while Akaashi clings to him, Bokuto lowers one hand to line them up, before slowly pushing Akaashi down onto him, while he thrusts up in the same movement.

Immediately Akaashi feels the burn of the stretch, and he cries out sharply at the pain. Bokuto freezes, standing completely still, breath hot against Akaashi’s shoulder. He pulls away just enough to look into Akaashi’s face, worry crinkling his forehead.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, his voice thick.

Akaashi shakes his head quickly, because he’s sure it will pass. His entire body is throbbing at the force of the penetration, but it doesn’t only hurt. There’s pleasure there as well, deep and hungry, and after a moment of getting used to Bokuto’s girth, he begins to rock his hips gently against Bokuto’s.

“Go on,” he urges softly.

“Are you sure?” Bokuto asks breathlessly.

Akaashi nods, burying his face in Bokuto’s neck. His fingers are in Bokuto’s hair, but Bokuto takes one of his hands, turning his face to kiss his wrist lightly, before moving to pin it above his head, against the bookcase. Bokuto’s other hand grabs onto the edge of the case, creaking into the wood, before he begins to thrust, shallowly at first. He rocks into Akaashi, pulling out just a couple inches, before pushing back in. Akaashi groans, stifling the sound against Bokuto’s skin.

“B-Bokuto-san.”

“Fuck, Akaashi,” Bokuto moans into his ear. “Y-You feel so _good_.”

Bokuto is hot within him, thick and slippery with the lotion. He glides easily, and after a few thrusts, Akaashi starts to grow used to the stretch and can focus on the way Bokuto is brushing against his prostate with every thrust. It’s not enough to send those shockwaves of pleasure thrumming through him, though, so Akaashi presses down against Bokuto as best he can in his trapped position against the bookcase.

“Bokuto-san,” he murmurs after a moment, his voice husky and quite unlike its usual timbre. It sends a shiver down Bokuto’s spine that Akaashi can feel against his body. “Deeper, please. You have to go deeper.”

Bokuto huffs, adjusting his position by spreading his legs further. Bending his knees, he begins to rock harder against Akaashi, shoving him into the bookcase with each thrust, but Akaashi doesn’t mind, because now Bokuto is hitting that spot, and he’s trembling with heat, with pleasure, as it sparks with such intensity, he can hear himself making more noise than before.

“Bokuto-san! Bokuto- _san_!” He’s never this vocal, this _desperate_. But his voice seems to have an effect on Bokuto, because he’s grunting, trembling, _moaning_ in response to Akaashi’s encouragements.

Akaashi can feel himself hurtling toward that edge, the pressure building faster, his body growing hotter, until he’s sure he’s about to combust. He curls in tighter around Bokuto, his length rubbing up against Bokuto’s stomach with each thrust. It’s too much for him at that point, and he stiffens, stifling his cry in Bokuto’s neck, as he climaxes. White light flashes behind his eyes, his entire body trembling, as Bokuto continues to thrust. Tears burn the corners of his eyes, as he reaches oversensitivity, and he whimpers Bokuto’s name, but Bokuto doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down until he comes a couple minutes later with a low groan. His hips stutter out of rhythm, and that pressure finally slips away from Akaashi’s prostate, allowing him relief.

“Bokuto-san,” he says, and the name comes out like a sob. He continues to cling to Bokuto, feeling the rapid beat of his heart, the shudder of his inhale as it shakes his chest.

“Fuck, Akaashi,” Bokuto murmurs wondrously. He slowly moves his hands back to Akaashi’s hips, lifting him off him gently.

Akaashi’s feet touch the ground, but he sinks to the floor, his body feeling limp and strung out. He feels worn and thin, his chest heaving still. Leaning his head back against the bookcase, he closes his eyes, listening to the sound of Bokuto cleaning up and refastening his jeans. Then Akaashi feels a soft touch against his shoulder and opens his eyes to look into Bokuto’s face. He looks anxious, light eyes searching Akaashi’s dark ones.

“Did I do good? Did you like it? Was it good for you?” he asks breathlessly.

Akaashi can’t help but smile, and he lifts a trembling hand to press it against Bokuto’s cheek. “It was good,” he assures him softly. “It was just what I needed. Thank you.”

“I’m always here when you need me, okay?” Bokuto says seriously, looking into Akaashi’s eyes with an intensity that makes Akaashi’s smile widen.

“I know,” he says, because he does know that, now. He leans forward to press a small kiss against the edge of Bokuto’s mouth, before sagging back against the bookcase. He knows he should take a bath, but the bathroom is upstairs, and he honestly feels incredibly weak right now.

“Can you do one more thing for me, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asks then.

“Yes! Sure! Anything!” Bokuto says immediately with a nod.

Akaashi lifts his arms. “Carry me up to the bathroom?”

Bokuto grins. “Oho, it’s a good thing you have such a strong boyfriend to take care of you, huh?”

Akaashi rolls his eyes. “Yes, I suppose it is. Now, please help me.”

Bokuto’s still grinning as he lifts Akaashi up into his arms, holding him gently against his chest. Akaashi leans his head against Bokuto’s shoulder, tracing tiny circles against his collarbones. His skin doesn’t feel itchy anymore. He doesn’t feel that ache, that longing. Instead, he feels completely content. His body is still warm, but no longer unbearably hot. It’s a comforting warmth, a happy one.

Bokuto truly is the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

**Author's Note:**

> [suddenly realizes that now that I've written Kuroken, Bokuaka, Bokuken, and Akaken porn, all I have left to do is Bokuroo and Akakuroo for my OT4 porn cycle to be complete]
> 
> http://shions-heart.tumblr.com/


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